Game of Thrones season 5 - why I won't be watching this immature cosplay convention for sociopaths
Game of Thrones returns for its fifth season on April 12th, and I won’t be watching. Unless, of course, I am watching.
You see, this show and me have a classic love-hate relationship. I love it and hate it, simultaneously (Game of Thrones’ feelings towards me remain, at time of writing, unknown). It’s one of the best TV programmes I’ve ever seen – and I’m giving up on it.
Unless, of course, I change my mind. Because it’s so gripping, isn’t it, and exciting, and hugely dramatic, you watch five minutes of an episode and suddenly find yourself still binging eight hours later…
No. I won’t let that happen. I’m out now, definitively. I think the love died – though a smidgeon still pulses, deep in the darkest corner of my heart – during two scenes from last year. Needless to say at this juncture…
The first, and most important, was when The Mountain killed the Red Viper in an indescribably disgusting manner (even by Game of Thrones standards, this was nauseating). The second was when Arya left The Hound to die, slowly and painfully, instead of putting him out of his misery.
That second scene really just put the tin-hat on it; the damage had been done already, in the most infuriating bit of telly I think I’ve ever seen. It was madly annoying anyway, how Oberyn had Gregor Clegane on the ground, cut and bleeding, at his mercy; but instead of finishing the job – or at least chopping off the giant’s four limbs first – he dances around, taunting and preaching.
Within arm’s reach! Arms that are as big and strong as oak trunks! I mean, talk about bringing it on yourself.
But worse than that was how, yet again, evil won out. Here we had a rapist-murderer, about to get served some summary justice – the brother and uncle of his victims preparing to literally get medieval on his ass. Finally, the viewer thought, the universe is morally back in balance, for once.
But no: this being Game of Thrones, we needed the “shock” twist, the attention-grabbing development that would have everyone yapping on Twitter. So the Mountain smashes Oberyn’s teeth out, pushes in his eyeballs and crushes his skull to bits. (That’s literally what happened, I’m not exaggerating to make my argument.)
And I think, at that precise moment, I reached saturation point. I guess there’s only so much debasement and horror I can take in one story; or such an unremittingly bleak, cynical view of human nature.
If there’s even the slightest, most hypothetical chance of something horrible happening, it will. This is the One Ruling Law of Game of Thrones. All goodness will be destroyed, all hope will be obliterated, all decency will be punished. Every time.
Arya had reason to leave the Hound suffer, sure, but she could have risen above that, found her better nature and done him a kindness. (Besides, he wasn’t all bad, and had saved her life a few times.)
Except she couldn’t, dummy, because this is Game of Thrones and nobody ever finds their better nature. They wallow in depravity and sadism and terror – they revel in it.
The whole thing has basically degenerated into a cosplay convention for sociopaths, and it’s all pretty immature. It’s like the diary entries of some antisocial, maladjusted, spree-killer-in-waiting adolescent moron have been dramatized in a fantasy setting.
People do bad things. People are scum. Life sucks. Shit happens.
Yeah, yeah, I get it. I think I’m out now though.
Unless, of course, they drag me back in…